


Meet me in the woods tonight

by JenCforCarolina



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Homebrew Setting, but they get along very well so whats the harm, just a girl and her goddess that she thinks is an imaginary friend or maybe a fae stuck in her head, paladin oc, when i say homebrew i mean my setting that i made up on my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCforCarolina/pseuds/JenCforCarolina
Summary: From a prompt: Took a little journey to the unknown. Every time I hear this song I think of my paladin singing it in duet with her goddess so, something about her, and the kind of people she meets in the woods at night!
Kudos: 1





	Meet me in the woods tonight

Aspen’s got a fire roaring, banked against carefully piled stones. It’s rare she finds such a nice place to make camp. Her tent behind her is hung from a limb coaxed down from the cedar boughs above, and anchored with subtle vines summoned up from the earth below. Her bedroll is cushioned by the needle-covered ground, the forest damp but not too damp for good crackling kindling. A pinecone here and there to add a little pop to the fire. 

She has a kettle on, and is working on crushing freshly plucked needles for tea, when an awareness rises up her spine and into the small of her skull. Sehncia, restless and aware in the confines of her mind, takes her attention and angles it south-southeast. It feels like a hand cupping her cheek, delicate and gentle.

 _Danger?_ Aspen asks, quickly.

 _Single man, armed, but looks more hungry than aggressive to me._ Sehncia replies. _You could take him._

Aspen’s glaive lays at her side, and her breastplate in the tent behind her. She makes no move for either yet. Instead, she finds her waterskin and pours what’s left into the wooden bowl at her feet. The runes glow softly and dissipate, as the water turns to soup. She ate tonight already, but it appears she will have a guest, and she likes to have a well stocked arsenal for these sorts of meetings.

She can hear the footsteps now, quiet on the ground. He’s not bad at moving stealthily, but she knows what she is listening for, and which way to turn her head to hear it better.

The vagabond is dirty, ratty, but has nice gloves and solid boots and a heavy coin purse. She notices his small travelling pack and a short city cloak, it looks as though he is not prepared for a night in the wild. The firelight glistens in his eyes as he emerges, drawn like a moth to the blaze. He gauges her and the weapon in reach, but sees her satchel and guitar at her side, and raises his knife as a threat. “No sudden movements, lass.”

She lifts her head calmly to meet his eye. Surprisingly, it does not unsettle him right away. Usually her calm demeanor sets off the cleverest highwaymen. They put together the pieces and decide a girl alone in the woods who does not startle at the sight of a man with a weapon is an anomaly not worth challenging. Especially one dressed as plainly as she is, one who doesn’t look worth robbing. 

_He’s so young._ Sehncia marvels.

_He looks nearly thirty._

_Foolish, then?_

_Yes. So young, in a sense._

She gestures with an open palm, rotating from the wrist, keeping her elbow close, and limiting her movement to soothe him. “Welcome. Please, sit.”

The vagabond pauses, finally, a little wiser than he first appeared. He chews this response and flexes his grip on the knife, inching closer around the fire. He has a decent enough stance, is presenting her with a small profile. Wouldn’t do a thing against a moonbeam or some vines, but he doesn’t need to know what she’s capable of. 

“Toss the bag.” He commands, unconvincingly. “Don’t touch the spear, no need for trouble.”

“And what are you going to do?” Aspen admonishes, taking on the tone her mother used to use when she didn’t want to stop talking to her imaginary friend and go to bed. “Keep walking all night? Sit, eat, rest. I’m about to make tea and I have leftover soup. Aren’t you hungry?”

He looks at the bowl in front of her crossed legs and hesitates, jaw slackening a bit. He is clearly very hungry. She picks it up slowly in both hands, and offers it out. The teakettle on the fire begins to hiss, low and gentle.

The man holds his stance for a full minute as he weighs his options, and she holds hers just as long. Finally, he lowers the knife, sinks carefully down to the ground a wary distance away from her. The bowl is passed and he cups it close, breathes in the smell, and sips carefully. Upon discovering it is the perfect temperature -magically, but he doesn’t know that- he slurps it hastily. 

Aspen considers him occupied, and takes the kettle from the fire, carefully dropping in the crushed berries and pine needles before replacing the lid for it to steep. While she is distracted, he furtively licks the bowl clean. But Sehncia sees, and shows her the image, bubbling amusement in her mind. Aspen reminds her that he has likely not eaten all day, and suggests they do not pass too much judgement. Though she agrees it’s a comical sight.

“You haven’t been traveling before, have you?” She speaks up. There are four large towns within four days travel of here. She could guess which he came from, with a few pointed questions. But she won’t, she respects the strangers who find their way to her fireside.

He peers at her, bitter at the accusation. It makes her a _little_ defensive, and she snorts before continuing. “Oh please, you’re out of food, you don’t have a bedroll, and you have a coin purse well full enough to buy both of those things. Even if it’s all coppers.”

“You threatening to turn me in?” His shoulders hunch like hackles, his fingers claw her bowl. That answers a few questions itself.

“My glaive is stolen too. I never saw you out here if you didn’t see me.” Aspen offers in return. But she realizes her mistake as he takes an appraising look at the weapon, and notices the glint of armor behind her. His brow pinches. Sehncia roils unsettled around her head. 

“You’re a deserter.” He says slowly.

“And now I know where you’re from.” She returns, which stiffens him. “Like I said, we won’t talk about each other.”

“Right.” He replies, slowly, as if he’s still looking for a trap. “I mean. You seem too generous to be a guardsman. That must be why you left, right?”

Aspen doesn’t grace that with an answer, and actually does not share his low opinion of the crownsguard. She turns instead to fetch a tin cup from her satchel. “Have you got a mug on you at least? Tea’s almost ready.”

He blinks, confused at the abrupt change of direction, then catches the question and digs in his pack for a tankard he probably swiped from a tavern. He hands her back her bowl, and she pours him half the contents of her kettle. “That’ll be hotter than the soup, watch yourself.” She warns.

He seems to catch on that he’s been getting advice from someone a decade younger, and sips before it’s cool, to make a point. She shakes her head as he tries not to wince and pant, and cups her own mug her hands, letting the warmth seep in against the night air and the aroma rise to soothe her.

“Here’s the deal I offer every stranger who stumbles into my campsite.” She says, giving him a sidelong glance. “We can ask whatever we want, but we are not obliged to answer. And we swear not to talk about each other to any other strangers till tonight’s long past. We share food and fire and stories, and part at dawn. If we happen to be going the same way, part at the next fork in the road. Sound fair?”

“Sounds more dangerous for you than for me.” He says. With some food in him he’s getting bolder, smarter, looking for a way to feel on balance and in control of the situation.

“I know how to use that glaive too. Fifty-fifty odds for which of us would walk out in a fight.” This platitude is a lie, but one meant to soothe the pride she prodded earlier.

“Smartmouth.” He irritably sets the tankard down for a moment, to let it cool. 

“You’re welcome, for all I have offered.” She replies, breezily. He licks his burned lips and doesn’t meet her gaze for many minutes. 

“…Thank you.” He admits, finally. “I think I’ll take you up on it. It’s… beginning to get chilly. And there’s strength in numbers, in case of a bear or a wolf or something.”

Sehncia dissuades the predators, but Aspen does not need to mention the voice in her head. So she agrees amicably instead. “Certainly. Also, since you don’t know where you’re going, Salthesh is the closest town, west of here, two days walk, I’ll show you the road at first light. It’s your best bet for some proper supplies. And for goodness sakes get a longer cloak. You’ll need the extra blanket some nights.”

He nods, but has one more question before he is comfortable, she can see him searching for words in the firelight dancing on his face. “How did you know I was lost?”

“I have a sense of that sort of thing. I’ve long learned only lost wanderers find my campsite.” She replies, honestly. “I’m becoming a bit of a guide.”

He sips his tea, contemplative, trusting the heat to have simmered by now. It’s a long and quiet few moments before he breaks the silence again.

“I don’t know much about stuff outside cities, but I have a sense too. I know when it’s time to move. Ambershire’s piecing itself back together, but there’s a lotta mercs around and not a lotta jobs for them.” He looks at Aspen, directly, nodding slightly. “Settin’ bounties for deserters is a quick way to keep mercenaries busy and quell any dissent, ya know? Maybe time you picked some new roads, kept yourself outta trouble.”

It makes sense, she supposes. The thought of heading elsewhere fills her with equal parts nerves and excitement. She’s not sure which parts come from Sehncia and which from herself, but she’s never really known that.

“Thank you for the wisdom.” She replies, slowly. “I’ll sleep on it.”

“Least I can do in return.” He replies, taking another drink. “You got I figured out with this setup. It’s… nice.”

“You could do it too.” She suggests. “It’s just kindness and sharing and the trust of strangers, simple as that.”

“I dunno. I think it’s something special you’ve got.”

Sehncia hums in her head, teasingly. Aspen feels her like draped arms over her shoulders. “Perhaps.” She agrees. “In that case, I count myself lucky for it.”


End file.
